Mooneye
by Jeice Lover
Summary: A ratbabe whose real name was lost with his mother in whose arms he washed upon a rocky shore, comes to be called 'Mooneye' by the mousemaid who raises him. Reared from childhood in an isolated patch of forest on a cold shoreline, young Mooneye shall come to discover his true name and family, and use his special eyes to help him find a darkness hidden within a great badger mountain
1. Chapter 1

A night on the open sea can be one of two things: complete tranquility and calm, or unrivalled and boundless chaos.

This night, on this stretch of the sea, it was most definitely the latter.

The waves pitched and tossed the small wooden structure floating on the choppy surface. The creatures onboard had to balance with all their might if they were up on the deck, to prevent themselves from being tossed headfirst into the boiling brine. This was not an easy task, however, as the deck was in almost as much chaos as was the water.

Through the harsh backdrop of lightning that gave occasional flashes of light onto the ship's deck, momentary stills of the action might be seen. Rats scrambling about with curved blades, claws digging into the wooden planks beneath their footpaws. Of all creatures, the silhouettes of hares could be seen on the deck, fighting the rats with javelins and other close to paw weapons. No sling or bow and arrow would be of much use on such a turbulent battlefield as this.

And such a battlefield it was, glorious and bold. Shouts of blood and vinegar, swears known by those who traverse the seas, and even the ever bone-chilling 'Eulalia' resounding through the air. It seemed the most glorious and perfect place for a fight to be fought.

All except for one set movements out of place.

At the end of the ship, trying to shy away from the action as much as possible, a ratmaid clung to the railings, clutching a bundle of cloth to herself as she grasped tightly to a rope which she tied around the waist of a youngling rat. The child sniveled and clung to ratmaid's skirts, though she tried to quiet him as she secured him. They were hidden behind a set of barrels that had been lashed to the deck, hoping that hiding behind them would hide their location from those participating in the pitched battle only a few feet away.

Just as the ratmaid had picked up a rope to secure herself to the ship, a shadow appeared behind her. The rat child cried out, trying to warn her above the storm. The shadow of a large creature rose up, wielding a large heavy club behind them. Even as the ratmaid turned to see them, it was too late. Their club came down upon her head with a thud that even the storm could hardly muffle. The child cried out in fear as the blow connected, and the shadow creature turned to the child.

Before it could advance, however, a blade from a rat stuck the creature in the side, stopping its advance. The rat holding the knife quickly withdrew it and grabbed hold of the ratchild and pulled him out of harms way.

At that moment, the seas pitched again, sending the deck in a sharp diagonal. The ratmaid, already injured and stunned by the blow to her head, with nothing securing her, was flung to the air by the sudden movement; her body clearing the railing of the ship and plunging into the sea with an almost mocking grace to the rat whose cries for her were drowned out by the chaos of the storm. He had not even a chance to stare into the brine in which she had vanished as the lop-eared shadow bore down upon him, and he had to turn his attention to defending the ratchild left behind with him.

Even as he fought and screamed and cried for the creature's blood, the child cried aloud and clung to the older rat, for the ratmaid and her bundle lost in the waves.

* * *

It was a usual early morning for the young mousemaid who strolled down the rocky shore of the beach, clutching a cloak about herself. It was a brisk morning, but she wanted to waste no time. The night before had brought a storm which shook all the trees and sent pebbles and other debris rattling against her home in the caves in the cliffs. On mornings after such storms, she liked to scour the beaches, searching for anything useful that might have washed ashore in the night. To this end, she carried a sack over one shoulder, to haul back anything she found that might find some use for her. Perhaps some washed up clams or injured fish, or even just some nice shells that she could use in grinding up for her art. One never did know what the waves might bring.

What she did not expect to find, however, was the rat she found curled up in the rocks where the ebbing tide whispered in the rocky shore. She dropped her sack in surprise, then rushed to the rat's aid. A ratmaid she could see more clearly, once she approached, clutching a bundle to herself as if it were her own heart.

Cautiously, the mouse reached for the rat, gently nudging her shoulder with a paw to see if she still breathed. A slight shift and a gurgling breath gave her all the sign she needed. A word of warning told her to hang tight, that she would bring her up to where the grass met the rock and sand, and would bring her help.

However, a paw shakily grasping her wrist stopped her, and she found her gaze being directed to the cloth bundle. The mouse took in a short breath, and looked to the rat. Upon receiving a jittery nod, she slipped the bundle out of the rat's arms, looking it over. With her examination complete, the mousemaid spoke again to the ratmaid, and ran up to higher ground, snatching up her sack and racing with all the speed she could muster.

Without wasting time, she arranged the sack in a firmly rooted bush, then laid the bundle atop it. She placed a gentle paw atop it, then just as quickly raced down to the shore where the rat lay. Comforting words already rested on the tip of her tongue, and promises of helping her and saving her life. When she arrived, though, it seemed they were all for not. The mouse's shoulders limply dropped, as one look into the ratmaid's eyes already told her enough. That the empty gaze aimed upwards no longer saw the clear blue sky, only into the great vastness of the Dark Forest gates.

Still, she gathered herself again, and got to work once more. The ratmaid she would have to deal with only momentarily, what with her other business to attend to. To this end, she summoned all her strength and hauled the ratmaid's body into a small crevice in the rocks. She wished she had time to be a bit more ceremonious, but for the moment, this would prevent her being washed away when the tide returned, or any hungry seabirds circling about to find a bite to eat. She patted the feelingless shoulder once, before racing her way up to where she had left the bundle.

Carefully, the mouse picked up the bundle and peeled away the layers of ragged cloth soaked by sand and sea water, and allowed her to pick up the contents.

She gently shushed the ratbabe that she now held, willing away the tears that welled in her eyes as she knew the fate of the poor babe's mother. She would have to think in a moment, plan to find a way to care for this child who had washed up on her shore.

Yet, for now, all she could do was stare. Stare at this poor, sad ratbabe in her arms, a babe who shared the same, milky eyes as the ratmaid with the dented head who could no longer feel the ocean breeze that floated across the beach.

The ratbabe, whose true name his mother had no strength left to tell the mousemaid called Anemone, who would come to be called, 'Mooneye'.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mooneye! Mooneye, are you out here?" The sound of the mousemaid, Anemone, drifted over the rocky shore. She made her way over the rocks with practiced paws from all her seasons of living here. As she had done many times before, she was calling out for the young rat under her care. He often wandered off without letting her know where he was, and she was left searching out after him. "Mooneye?!"

"Over here, mother!" At last she heard his voice, and followed it to the lowest point of the cliffs. It was accessible to them when the tide went out, and they often came down here to collect shellfish and the like to dry and cook for food.

"There you are. You shouldn't have run off without telling me, you know," she chided as she came up to him. "What are you doing out here all on your own?"

"I was just knocking down some barnacles and gathering clams," he replied edgily. It was common practice for them to collect barnacles. Anemone had devised a sort of system with a flat blade and a wedge. The blade cut behind the barnacle where it attached to the rock, then all one had to do was wriggle in the wedge and smash it with a rock a few times and use the leverage to break away the barnacle and collect it. The creatures inside tasted like shrimp almost, and their shells could be used to help secure things as well as rocks once dried out.

"You could have had me come, Mooneye. You know how hard the barnacles can get to pry away this time of year." She came over to him to try and lend a hand, but spotted something out of the corner of his eye, just in sight through a gap in the opening of the seaweed-mesh bag she had made for him. "What is this now?" She made to reach for it, but her adoptive son immediately rushed between her and the bag, planting himself firmly in her way.

"No! You can't look, mother! Not yet!" Anemone was taken aback.

"What do you mean I can't look? Are you hiding something from me?" Her tone turned sharp, and he quailed under her gaze. He sheepishly averted his gaze from her.

"... Only your present for your birthday," he muttered. "I had wanted to save it to give it to you tomorrow." Anemone's eyes went slightly wide, but her expression softened. She could be a stern caretaker, few in seasons though she was compared to others who called themselves mothers, but she was sweet when it came down to it. She was fair and trusted that her son was telling her the truth.

"Did you? Well, I won't try to spoil my own surprise. I'll go away and leave you to it." She kissed him on the brow, as she was apt to do, and stood back. "Just tell me next time before you go off to the coast. You don't have to tell me all that you're doing, but I at least like to know where you are."

"Yes mother," Mooneye replied obediently. Anemone smiled upon her son. He was growing bigger than her already, being a rat, yet he was still just a young thing, and a gentle one at that. The way he looked at her with his eyes, black where they weren't covered with the ever changing milky white film over them, was always soft. The mousemaid giggled and tapped his nose.

"Seems those all-knowing eyes of yours are foretelling a three quarter moon tonight," she smiled. It was a bit of a joke between them. Since she had found him on this very beach so many years ago, she had always noticed that the film over his eyes seemed to correspond its' coverage with the phases of the moon. It was always impeccable, perhaps a bit unnerving to some, but it never bothered her any. She simply saw it as another talent of the wonderful young beast she had raised all these years. "Good thing, too. It'll give plenty of light for when the high tide comes in for a bit of late night fishing."

"Yes indeed, mother," Mooneye smiled, touching his nose where she had tapped. He watched his mother sigh and smile.

"Well, once you're done here with your oh so secret shenanigans, perhaps you might be able to stop by the Fox Den and trade for some honey and mead for me?"

"Will do, mother."

Anemone smiled again at her Mooneye, then made her way back up the beach while waving over her shoulder.

* * *

Mooneye took the easy route to the Fox Den, sack of clams over his shoulder and a spring in his step. It was a secluded little place in a briny water marsh just an hour's journey inland. All he had to do was follow the inlet where river met sea, and he was soon at the door of the den.

"Ahoy there, old friend~" The door had opened up before he had gotten there, and he found himself facing the burly, one-armed otter named Brack. The heads of three little fox triplets poked out around him, and they quickly emerged and circled around Mooneye. They squeaked and laughed with excitement as they tugged at his legs and chattered at him in loud tones. However, they were quickly shooed off of him by Brack wagging his powerful tail between them all and making them scatter. "Alright alright, that's enough you lot," the otter chided. "Go on now, leave him alone. Get!" He pulled out a few drops of crystallized honey, then threw them in the air away from the rat. The trio of kits scurried after them, leaving the slightly frazzled Mooneye behind. "Those ones, I swear. More hectic than a sack of bees in a gale."

"It's alright," Mooneye managed to his friend. "I know they're just excited for the party tomorrow." He motioned to the sack he carried. "As a matter of fact, I'm here for just that reason. Was hoping we could get some honey and meadt. Mother was planning on making some of her seashore cakes, but she's missing one of her most important ingredients."

"Gotcha there, friend. Nothing says a party quite like her cakes. Come on in, I'll gather up something or other for you to bring back." The rat followed the otter into the Den, and found himself once again in the small, but cozy fox family home. The family patriarch, and the oldest reynard of the family, Xander, sat working on repairing a net; perhaps from fishing, perhaps from the triplets of terror using it as a trampoline from which to bounce into the water. His wife Regina, a dainty vixen who aided her old mother that lived with them in tending the bees that the family kept, smiled up at them from her work in shaping warm honeycomb into some craft or another.

"Oh, Mooneye, good day to you." Regina finished up her project and made her way to the boys as she wiped her paws. "How is your mother, dear? Preparations for her birthday going well?"

"Yes ma'am," he smiled in turn. "Just came to get some of your delicious honey and mead for the final touches she wanted to make in her baking. You know how it is with her cakes."

"Indeed I do, dear. Lovely delicious things they are. Miss Anemone certainly knows her way around an oven, she does." The foxwife looked to Brack as he headed further back into the den. "Brack, could you please be a sweet thing and-"

"Already on it, ma." Regina smiled, seeing the young otter already going.

"Thank you, dear."

It might have seemed like an odd arrangement to some, that an otter had been raised in a den of foxes, but it not to them. The couple treated their adopted son as if he were one of their own kits, albeit one who could swim so well and who had a tail thick as a boat rudder. The story was told time and time again of how, when going out to fish, Xander had found him caught floating amongst some reeds when he was so young. His arm was already gone, though still bloody, but they had no idea how they lost it.

Regardless of circumstances, they took him in and brought him up as best they could. Mooneye found himself thinking, not for the first time, that he was glad his friend had been found by such a kind and warm family. Though he loved his own mother and their peaceful life near the shore, he could appreciate the appeal of the warmth and light chaos of such a bustling den.

"Is Ms. Reina not around today, then?" Regina's mother was an old vixen, and considered the unofficial head of the household, though she let her son-in-law take care of most things.

"No, she's off tending to the bees on her own today. Probably watching them flit among the flowers," Regina smiled with some amusement as she thought of the gray-muzzled old fox sitting amidst the blooms and passing her time watching their honeybees flit from flower to flower. "I'll be certain to let her know you were here, though."

"I'd appreciate that." Before their conversation could go much further, Brack returned with a hefty looking honey holder made from a hollowed out seed pod lined with wax. Mooneye looked between it and his sack of clams with some concern. "You're giving us all that? I don't know... I don't think I have enough clams here to-"

"Ah, forget the clams, boy." Xander's voice startled him, but the foxfather hadn't even looked up from his nets. "Just take it as a gift from us, and tell her to be sure to make something good with it for when we come calling tomorrow." Mooneye felt a flush of happiness under the fur of his face from the thought of such generosity.

"I... I don't know what to say. I'm sure mother will be happy. Thank you so much!" He bowed briefly, Xander only nodded distractedly.

"Of course she'll be happy. It's our honey. Best you'll find anywhere." He paused to grunt with frustration as he caught his claw in a frayed part of his net, but picked up talking again in a moment. "Brack, son, help him take that back home, won't you? Otherwise he'll be hauling back the burden he came here with along with his new one."

"Sure thing, dad." The otter grinned cheekily at the old fox, as he was apt to. After a small spectacle of kisses and extracted promises for her otter son to be home before dark, Regina sent the two boys off. Soon enough they were smiling and joking as they made their way down along the upper part of the beach where sand met foliage.

"Man, I can't wait to see what Miss Anemone will be making with all that honey. She'd better make this one up to par with her skill level. My teeth were barely aching last time I ate one of her cakes, I was almost disappointed in her to be honest."

"Shut your mouth," Mooneye laughed as he playfully slapped his friend's back with his tail. "You could eat a hundred cakes and I'd bet you could still go for more. My mother's cakes are the best and you know it, rudder-back."

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say, milky-eyes."

The friends laughed at and with each other as they went along, trading playful digs and talk all the way.


End file.
